The Rest of the Story
by writingismysuperpower
Summary: Reyna is a Roman in every sense of the word. She is unwavering, unyielding. But when she learns the story of the Seven, piece by piece, she begins to wonder if forgiveness might need to become a Roman attribute. Just a sampler of a bigger project that's still in the works. My first PJO fic - reviews greatly appreciated.


_**Hola. This is just a quick something that's been rattling around my brain recently. It may or may not speak of things to come.**_

_**(That was a poorly disguised hint that I'll be writing a PJO fic as soon as I finish my Narnia one. I'm still fairly new to this whole writing thing, so I'm not brave enough just yet to try juggling more than one multi-chap.)**_

_**Anyway, please do review - say hello, say you loved it, say PLEASE do not EVER write again, say anything, really. I'm not picky. =)**_

_**All rights to dear old Rick, mastermind of Olympus and the best friend/worst nightmare of the fandom.**_

/

Reyna slammed her pen down on the desk, praying to the gods for patience.

"Octavian, if I have to tell you to quit breathing down my neck, _again_, I'm going to set your toga on fire."

The skinny auger backed away, hands raised in surrender, but his facial expression and voice were dripping with sarcasm.

"Apologies, _Praetor_," he all but sneered, and while he stayed closer than she would have liked, he at least maintained a three foot radius between them.

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Reyna picked up her pen and tried to refocus.

Those stupid Greeks had been so close, but then they'd vanished in Rome. The only clue they had was a mysterious collapsed parking deck, but there was no evidence of mythological anything happening there, much less a scraggly band of demigods out to save the world.

It had been difficult enough to persuade the Senate – much less Octavian – that sending a quest into the Mediterranean was a good idea.

They'd nearly caught them before the ship had headed across the Atlantic, but they'd come up short once again, and all because their idiot auger had insisted on going along on the expedition, bringing his insufferable ego with him. (Secretly, Reyna had laughed herself into hysterics when she'd heard how Percy Jackson had knocked Octavian into the bay. There were some things that were funny no matter whose side you were on.)

She had to agree with Octavian on one point, though: the Greek campers had promised peace, and within thirty minutes of their arrival, half the camp was destroyed. Vengeance was practically unavoidable at this point; it was the Roman way.

Often Reyna would replay her short conversation with Annabeth in Charleston; the daughter of Athena had actually defended that camp-bomber, claiming that he'd been possessed.

_Eidolon_? _Puh-lease_.

Honestly, though, she couldn't really blame somebody for not thinking the Greeks were welcome in Camp Jupiter, because the fact of the matter was, they weren't.

Some Romans simply would not believe that there was such a thing as a good Greek. On a personal level, Reyna had been willing to give them a try. Percy had believed that working together was the only way, and he'd even put his life on the line to prove it.

And then, just to be confusing, the camp had named him – the _Greek_ – praetor.

Not that she minded, of course. He had all the qualities of leadership; he was confident, but not arrogant, and people tended to listen when he spoke. He demanded respect because he'd earned it, and that was something that was very hard to come by. The Romans had been on the very edge of signing up alongside Camp Half-Blood.

But thanks to Leo Valdez and his stupid flying boat, all the hard work that had been put forth into bringing the two camps together had gone up in smoke – literally.

Her villa still wasn't fully repaired, since there were other buildings with greater damage and greater importance. She'd found a cheap apartment in New Rome for the time being, thank the gods, but walking back and forth every day was proving to be tiresome.

Yet another reason to strangle the son of Hephaestus when she saw him next.

A pale, long-fingered hand came from her right, pointing to a spot on the map.

"There. We should look there." Octavian said. She hadn't believed it possible for the guy to get a bigger head than he already did, but after the not-so-friendly Greek visit he'd proven her wrong.

He strutted around camp and New Rome, positively _oozing_ a demeanor of "I told you so." It drove Reyna absolutely _nuts_. It was nothing short of a miracle she hadn't killed him yet.

She gritted her teeth and replied, "We've already looked there. _Three times_. Because you told us to. And last time, one of the Mars kids almost didn't make it back. Monsters are all over the place now; it's too risky to try a fourth time."

"I still think – " he started, and Reyna felt her self-control snap.

"I swear to Juno, Octavian, if you tell me one more time what you think –"

The little worm _interrupted her._

"You ought to care very much what I think, Praetor, seeing as _I_ was the one who warned the camp that the Greeks were not to be trusted. Your orders led to the destruction of half the camp."

His voice held just enough threat to make a small part of her want to back away. But the other part of her brain, the Roman Praetor who could scare the pee out of the most seasoned centurions with a single glance, felt her blood pressure skyrocket.

Octavian seemed to realize he'd crossed the line; his eyes narrowed, and he gave her a brief nod that she supposed was some form of a bow, before scurrying away.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze back to the map. She knew they had to look in Epirus again, the trail had been too strong not to. It was an easy decision, but she refused to let Octavian think he had any influence at all. She sighed; he was going to take credit whether she let him or not. Might as well get it over with.

She just hoped they would find something this time.

/

Two weeks later, Reyna rode her eagle slightly ahead of the five others. She squinted against the intense sunset, reflecting off the Ionian See below.

They had managed to cross the Atlantic, somehow, in relatively one piece. Fortunately, they'd been able to make frequent stops throughout Europe as they worked their way south, eventually moving down the boot-shaped peninsula that was Italy.

First Rome, then Naples, and then a tiny coastal town called Bari, just above the boot's heel, before setting off across the small expanse of water that separated the sheep from the goats.

That is, to say, the Romans from the Greeks.

She scowled at the dark green smudge on the horizon, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth already.

Stupid Greeks, she thought, and she had just turned to the centurion closest to her – Anthony – when she saw his face morph into one of pure terror, his eyes riveted on a distant spot above her head.

In the same moment she became aware of a large, dark shadow that had come over her, and she turned to see the hull of the Argo II literally ten feet away from her face.

She could pick out every knot, every splinter in the wood, and that creepy dragon seemed to be staring at her with its ruby red eyes that flickered dimly.

She heard shouting, both behind her and from what sounded like the deck of the ship, but she was already moving, urging her eagle upwards in a wide swoop to hover level with the railing on the main deck, coming face to face with none other than Percy Jackson.

It was rather silly, to notice things like this in moments where you could literally plummet to your death, but she was struck speechless at Jackson's appearance.

His skin, which had been tanned and healthy just a couple of months ago, was sallow and pale, almost translucent. He'd lost at least fifteen to twenty pounds; his clothes hung in tatters on what was left of his frame.

But the worst was his eyes. Reyna suppressed a shudder, remembering how they'd been alight with confusion (due to the Juno/Hera-induced-amnesia), determination (due to the massive hero-complex), and sarcasm (due to having the maturity level of a twelve year old). Now, the green orbs were sunk into Percy's skull, and they looked like death itself, void of expression.

It took her only a second to notice all these things, but in the next heartbeat Reyna knew she couldn't attack them. Percy looked like he'd been through hell and back; there was no way she was ordering her Romans to massacre them without getting some answers first.

She turned her eagle one-hundred-eighty degrees, finding Octavian and the rest of their group hovering behind her, clearly expecting orders.

"Romans, I –"

"Well?" Octavian interrupted (again). "Order us to kill them! Or at least take them prisoner; maybe their _graecus_ camp will bargain for them."

"No." Reyna cut him off, suddenly angrier and surer of herself than she ever had been.

The auger's thin mouth pulled into a perfect 'O' of surprise.

"Excuse me, Praetor, but I believe- "

"I couldn't care less what you believe, Octavian," she snapped, "I'm telling you they've been through more than you and I _ever_ have been, put together. I want answers before the bloodshed starts. Those are my orders."

Without another word she turned again, guiding her eagle down towards the deck and sliding off gracefully, her feet finding solid reassurance in the wooden boards.

She looked up, finding shock in everyone's face save one. Percy appeared to be rather amused, but his smirk didn't look half as troublesome as it used to; now it looked more like a grimace.

"Reyna?" she glanced over and saw Jason, standing beside the McLean girl and looking stunned. She noticed that all of them looked worse for the wear; Jason had dark circles under his eyes, and even his beauty-goddess-girlfriend looked exhausted. Frank and Hazel weren't much better off. Annabeth was nowhere in sight, and Reyna felt the beginnings of concern deep in her chest.

Returning her gaze to Percy, she gave him a sharp look before asking, "Well?"

After a moment, he glanced at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets and admitting quietly, "It's a long story, Reyna."

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled around in time to watch Nico di Angelo come out. He barely acknowledged her, nodding briefly as he crossed over to Percy.

"Percy. C'mon, man, you gotta sit down. You've been on your feet all morning."

"I'm fine," the son of Neptune insisted, and Nico looked imploringly at Piper, who sighed.

"Sit down, Percy," she commanded, the power of her charmspeak rippling over them all. Reyna fought the urge to sit down, but apparently using someone's name upped the effect, because Percy's legs buckled. Nico and Jason caught him, easing him down on top of a drink cooler that was evidently kept nearby for that purpose.

Percy scowled slightly, though Reyna thought he might have been secretly glad to get off his feet. He didn't argue, giving her the impression that they went through this every day. Her desire to know what had happened only grew, and she'd just opened her mouth to ask again when a blood-curdling scream pealed out of the doorway behind her, setting the hairs on her arms on end.

She was nearly knocked out of the way by Percy, who had leaped forward at the first sound. He stumbled a bit but managed to grab the wall as he reached the doorframe. Reyna hesitated, but the others started to follow him and she fell in alongside Frank, glancing up at her waiting soldiers with no small amount of trepidation.

There was a set of stairs that led to a narrow hall just below deck, with several doors on either side. She reached the bottom, seeing Percy grope along the wall to one of the doors, the screaming growing in volume and intensity with every passing second. He wrenched the knob open, practically falling inside, and Reyna surged forward, suddenly overcome with desire to know, to understand, and she stopped short in the doorway, wanting for the first time in years to cry.

Annabeth lay on the bunk, thrashing wildly in her sleep. Her face shone with sweat and tears, and the screams that came out of her mouth made Reyna feel sick to her stomach.

Percy knelt beside her, his hands going out to touch her, stroke her hair, wipe the tears from her cheeks, grasping her fingers. One of his callused, scarred hands rested on her hip, the fingertips digging in just slightly, and all the while he spoke to her.

"Annabeth….it's me, I'm right here, it's Seaweed Brain, come on, Wise Girl, it's alright, I promise…"

Over and over again he whispered words of comfort, and a few minutes later Annabeth's gray eyes popped open, immediately locking on Percy.

The screaming stopped, but now Annabeth's whole frame shook with sobs, as she sat up and wrapped her arms around Percy's shoulders. He rose from the floor and sat beside her on the bed, his arms holding her close even as his own tears poured down his face.

Reyna felt a gentle touch on her elbow; she looked over her shoulder at Jason, who silently beckoned her out into the hall. He closed the door gently behind her, giving Percy and Annabeth a moment of privacy, before he turned to Reyna, looking more serious and sad than she'd ever seen him.

"Jason, what _happened_?" she asked, and he glanced around their little circle.

Finally he answered, his voice quiet and subdued, "They fell into Tartarus."


End file.
